When Frogs Leap Across the Pond
by Dionnysia
Summary: Britain and America attempt to play a prank on France, but the prank backfires when human Daria gets pulled in and learns of the Nations.  Favorite Hetalia characters  some will come in later chapters , a few OC's, and lots of random adventures
1. Introductions

**Notes:** Hetalia is not my own creation...I am just borrowing the ideas. Star Wars is not my idea either...that is the brilliance of Lucas. The story that follows is based on kimchi71399's "100 Day Fanfic Challenge" and LolliDictator's "Unit Manuals", in addition to my original ideas. Hope you enjoy it, and please do leave a review: I love the feedback!

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><p><em>Dramatis Personae (In Order of Appearance, for all Chapters)<em>

Alfred F. Jones (America)

Arthur Kirkland (England)

Daria Prewett

Peter Kirkland (Sealand)

Francis Bonnefois (France)

Leigh (friend of Daria)

Esteban (Leigh's Boyfriend)

Susan (friend to Leigh and Daria)

Susannah Marie West (Texas)

Gilbert Beilschmidt (Prussia)

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo (Spain)

Lovino Vargas (South Italy)

Matthew Williams (Canada)

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><p>Prologue<p>

"Dude, are you sure this is such a good idea?" Alfred pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and looked at Arthur uncertainly.

"The Frog has had this coming for a loooonnnggg time now," Arthur replied deviously. He opened his spell book and chanted a few words. A blue aura appeared around him, then around a blonde man who was in a drunken oblivion in a chair on the other side of the room. Arthur completed his chant. Prodding the Frenchman who was now fully unconscious, Arthur nodded in satisfaction. "I guess we might as well get the rest of this done with."

Alfred sighed. France could be annoying at times, but he was not sure how he felt about pranking him in this manner. Nonetheless, he reluctantly aided Arthur as the Brit finished his plan.

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><p>Chapter 1: Introductions, or What the heck?<p>

I settled into my couch, armed with a bowl of popcorn and a liter bottle of root beer. I was totally ready to start my Star Wars Trilogy marathon. I was between writing assignments, so I figured I owed myself the treat. I munched my popcorn as the opening scrolls played. Just as Darth Vader was walking onto the screen, there was a knock at my door. _Really?_, I thought. _Who the hell could that be?_

Grumbling, I answered the door to find a teen in a ludicrous purple uniform with a logo that resembled a mint bunny by his right shoulder standing on my steps.

"A package for a Miss, er," he looked down at his clipboard. "...Miss Daria Prewett?"

"Yeah, that's me," I replied. "What is it?"

"Um, I just need you to sign here, please," the delivery boy gestured at his clipboard.

"Is this a scam?" I inquired. As he shook his head no, I skimmed the form he had given me. Seeing nothing threatening, I signed it before returning it.

The boy ran to a van that somehow resembled his uniform, threw the clipboard in the front seat, then wheeled a large crate over to me on a trolley. "Miss, where can I put this?"

Gaping at the trolley, I stepped aside and gestured to an area just inside my door. The boy wheeled the tall crate in, handed me a leaflet, and went on his way.

Suddenly remembering my movie, I threw the leaflet on the table beside my door and turned to hurry back to the den...bumping the crate in my haste. I somehow bumped it in a manner _just_ enough to cause it to overturn. Helplessly, I watched it fall and prayed that its contents were not fragile.

The crate fell to the floor with a dull thud. A voice from inside the crate cried, "Ughh, zut alors! Pour quoi je suis en un boite?" A fist punched through the fairly thin wood of the crate. The fist was soon followed by a body. The tall man stood up, dusting himself off. Long blonde locks and sparkling blue eyes accented his face that appeared to be no older than thirty. He wore a blue jacket, red breeches, and boots that appeared to be from another time. He was quite handsome, even if his attire was archaic. He scanned the room. Noticing me, he smiled, winked and offered me a rose from his pocket. "Bonjour, mademoiselle!"

I gaped at him for a moment, then regained my composure as I accepted the rose. "Who seriously sent you?" I was not sure, but I had a hunch that my friend Leigh had finally proven true on her promise to send me someone _extra_ special. She had been threatening that she would for nearly two years, just because I never seemed to get dates. I looked at the costumed guy again and shook my head. "Okay, um, let's just go into the living room and I'm sure we can figure something out. And keep your clothes _on_," I told the man sternly as we made our way to the living room.

"Honhonhonhonhon!" the guy laughed as he sat down.

I shook my head and pulled out my phone. _What the heck?_ I texted Leigh. _Did you actually hire a stripper as some sort of joke?_

A few moments later my phone buzzed with her reply. _Lolol, but no. Why? _

_B/c there is some random French dude who looks like he is from 1776 or something that was delivered to my house in a bloody crate!_ I sent back to her.

_No, but that is amusing. Have fun! XD_, Leigh responded.

I put my phone back in my pocket and facepalmed. "So seriously, what are you doing here?" I addressed the Frenchman. "Who sent you?"

"Mon chère, je ne sais pas, je regrette" He smirked at me flirtatiously. "Mais, je m'appelle Francois Bonnefois. Et comment vous appelez-vous, mon belle fille?"

"You can call me Daria," I replied. "So you seriously have no clue how you got here? That makes two of us then," I said aloud to no one in particular. My stomach growled suddenly, rudely announcing that it was time for dinner. "Mr. Bonnefois, we can figure things out later. I'm going to fix some macaroni and cheese. Do you want some?"

Francis scowled at me. "That is not a proper dinner. Let me cook dinner and show you how real food is made!"

I frowned. Allowing my guest to cook dinner did not seem right, but he was persistent about it. For lack of a better answer, I shrugged. An hour later, I realized that I had made a good choice. Using the meager ingredients in my kitchen, Francis had somehow created the best quiche I had ever eaten. He had even managed to make an amazing cake for dessert. At the conclusion of dinner, I noted the late hour and decided to let Francis stay the night. He seemed nice enough, even if he was a bit too flirtatious.

I showed Francis the bathroom and his room for the night, giving him a pair of shorts my brother had left behind one time to sleep in. I left my guest to get comfortable in his room. After ensuring that there were towels out in the bathroom, I locked myself in my room for the night. There was a lot I needed to record in my journal, for once. Plus, I knew that I could never be too careful with a random person in my house.

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><p>Thank you for reading! Leave me feedback please, or else Francis will stalk you! I want to be sure I have characterizations and the French right!<p> 


	2. A Weekend at the Beach

Yay! I finally have the next chapter up! Hetalia is not my own creation...I am just borrowing the ideas. Superhero Movie and the iPod name do not belong to me either. The story that follows is based on kimchi71399's "100 Day Fanfic Challenge" and LolliDictator's "Unit Manuals", in addition to my original ideas.

A special thanks to **SailorXPrincessXHalloween**_, _**darkbeyonddeath666, Arekushisu Atsuhiko**_,_** The White Rose of Slytherin, **and **.sisters ** for their faves/stalks/reviews...y'all are awesoooome! Also, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to a bestie of mine (and you know who you are...mwah!) xD

Now, without further ado...

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><p>Chapter 2: A Weekend at the Beach<p>

Sunlight filtered in through my window, beckoning me to arise. Groggily, I slid out of bed and into a soft robe before going to the kitchen to put a mug of water in the microwave. While I was waiting for the water to boil, I walked into the living room to turn on my T.V. While doing so, I caught sight of the leaflet on the coffee table that I had abandoned in the chaos of the previous day. I now picked it up. "Congratulations! You are now the proud owner of your very own FRANCIS BONNEFOIS unit! Please take..." I thumbed through the rest of the manual. _What the-_, my thoughts were interrupted by the beeping of the microwave.

A little while later, I sat on the couch, sipping my morning cocoa while the morning news blared in the background. The manual lay open in front of me on the coffee table. I shook my head in disbelief as I thought of everything that I had just read. "Seriously, is this some sort of joke?" I said aloud? My phone vibrated, as if someone were texting me a response.

_I'm going to my beach house for the weekend. Want to join?_ My friend Leigh texted me.

_Sweet! Count me in...maybe,_ I responded.

_?_

_That random guy is still with me..._

_Lolol he can come too! Esteban and Susan are going to be there as well._

_Ok then...guess I will see you in a few hours!_

_3_, Leigh ended our conversation.

I hurriedly put my mug in the sink, mentally listing everything that needed to be done before leaving. _Packing...taking the trash out...Francis needs clothes, so shopping_. I paused a moment. Surely Francis would agree to go with me. I rapped on his door.

Francis opened the door, clutching a blanket around himself. His blond hair was disheveled and he was blinking sleep from his eyes. "Zut alors! It's too early!" he moaned.

"Sorry to wake you so _early_, it's only 10:00!" I ignored his scowl as I continued. "My best friend invited us to spend the weekend at her beach house on the coast. We're going to be leaving in about an hour if that's okay with you."

Francis brightened up. "Oui! That sounds tres bien!"

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><p>I tapped my foot impatiently. We had already been in the boutique for an hour and Francis had only found half of what he needed. He finally emerged from the fitting room, flirting with the girl at the counter there before approaching me. "Seriously man, <em>hurry up!<em> We have got to get going! What else do you need?"

Francis smirked at me. "You cannot rush perfection, non?" Noticing my glare, he grew a bit more sincere. "I just need another shirt and some swimming clothes, oui?" Francis retrieved the last of his items and a short while later, we finally checked out of the store. Francis looked like a movie star in his collared white shirt, casual black slacks, designer sunglasses, and black dress shoes, all of which he had just purchased. He also had some other collared shirts, a few pairs of shorts, another pair of slacks, some sandals, and swimming trunks, which I put into the trunk of my car. Surprisingly, the purchases only cost a third of what I expected them too. I would not deny that the Frenchman had flirted his way to some discounts.

At long last, we were finally on the road. Once we got beyond the next few lights, we would be on the open road. I turned up the radio and smiled. All too soon, the smile turned to a frown as I felt a hand groping my leg. I slapped the hand away and at the next red light, I slapped the face to which the hand belonged. "DO NOT do that again or I will castrate you before we get to Corpus, okay?" I addressed Francis. He shivered as he hastily nodded at me. "And you better be on your best behavior this weekend too." I gave him a sickly sweet smile. The rest of the drive went without incident.

At 6:00 that evening, we reached Corpus Christi. Before I even had time to fully get out of my car, Leigh enveloped me in a huge hug. "I'm glad you made it!" she said excitedly.

"Me too! Goodness knows how much I have missed you!" I replied with the same enthusiasm. Other introductions and greetings were exchanged, then Leigh showed Francis and I to our rooms. I was to share with Leigh and Susan; Francis would share with Esteban.

Supper consisted of homemade hamburgers that everyone, even Francis enjoyed. We all munched happily from porch of the beach house, which offered an incredible view of the beautiful ocean sunset. As everyone finished up, Esteban slid his arm behind Leigh, who sat beside him on the bench, and addressed me. "So Francis is a..._friend?"_

I blushed furiously. "Nothing has happened between us! He's just...er, visiting me for a while. He didn't have any where else to go for the weekend, so I brought him with me!"

Esteban looked at me smugly. "Mhmm..." Leigh smacked him and playfully chided him.

Francis and Susan chuckled at our lively exchange.

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><p>Arthur sat as his desk as Alfred paced the room. "Sealand said he delivered Francis to Texas," Arthur thought aloud.<p>

Alfred ceased his pacing. "I wonder why we haven't heard from Texas yet, then. She is totally as temperamental as her weather and she doesn't like France!"

A thought crossed Arthur's mind, which he voiced to Alfred. "What if France never arrived at Texas's house. What if Sealand just dropped him off at a human's home?" Arthur and Alfred both blanched as they caught each others eye. "Surely not."

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><p>For the remainder of Friday night, we played some board games until someone brought out some alcohol. The night ended with retrieving a drunk, nude Francis from the ocean. That was so embarrassing for me.<p>

The next morning, I woke up feeling woozy. Though I had fallen asleep on the living room floor, I was somehow in my own bed. Susan padded in, brushing her teeth. She must have noticed my confused expression, for she answered my unasked question. "Francis brought you in here a little while ago.

I looked at my phone. "Dang! It's already two?" I exclaimed. Susan nodded at me as she walked back into the bathroom. I lurched out of bed and rubbed my temples. "Bloody hell! I won't be having another night like _that_ again anytime soon!"

"Honhonhonhonhon," Francis' laughter erupted from the living room.

"Shut up, you bloody frog! It's not funny!" I yelled.

The Frenchman poked his head into the room. "But, oui, it is! You sound just like...a good friend of mine!"

I scowled and chucked a pillow at him before pulling the covers over me again. Francis left, still laughing at me. I sat pouting for a few more minutes, then finally got up and changed my clothes. Everyone else, excluding Esteban, was already up. Leigh greeted me with a smile. "We should go swimming now!" my friend cheerfully suggested. Everyone that was present unanimously agreed.

The day was a perfect late summer afternoon. The sun shone warmly against the bright blue sky. The strong breeze propelled large waves toward the shore and pushed salty air into our faces. Leigh, Susan, and I threw our things unceremoniously into a pile on the sand, then Leigh grabbed a hand of Susan and one of my own, pulling us toward the massive waves. We ran into the water until a wave knocked us down. We stood up, laughing and sputtering water. Leigh grabbed Susan and I so that we could again face the waves.

After playing in the waves, to my disappointment we decided to build sandcastles. The incoming tide quickly eroded our castle, so we then decided to bury Susan in the sand. As I was scooping up a handful of sand, I noticed an odd transparent blob in the sand. "Hey, Leigh, what do you think this is?" I pointed at my discovery.

Leigh walked over to examine it. "I'm not sure what this is. Maybe it's a shopping bag." She prodded at it.

We looked at Susan and shrugged. By this time, Francis had walked over from where he had been sunbathing and watching us. "That," Leigh and I looked up at Francis as he spoke, "is a Portuguese Man-o'-war." He stepped on the top of it to make its membrane pop. "We should move somewhere else. They can bury their tentacles deep in the sand and I would not want to get stung."

I shuddered. "It seems weird that one of those would be here, halfway around the world."

Leigh shook her head. "Not really. They travel on the currents, which bring them into the Gulf of Mexico. Since they tend to be pretty common this time of year, I guess we should go back in."

We helped Susan out of the sand, then decided to walk back inside, for we were all turning a bit pink. The rest of the evening passed without incident. We ate a wonderful shrimp salad for supper and watched _Superhero Movie_ (much to Leigh's dismay). Given the events of the night before, we decided against pulling out any alcohol.

The next morning, we helped Leigh clean up her beach house and everyone then departed to go to their respective homes. Francis knew better than to grope me while driving this time, so he sat stoically and winked at hot girls that we passed by during the long trip home. I resisted the urge to smack him, electing to listen to my iPod and concentrate on the road instead.

**A/N:** Pwease do review! Tell me if you loved it or hated it, how my characterizations of canon characters were, and if there were any stupid mistakes. Don't be disappointed if you did not see too much of the canon characters. I promise that they will all make more appearances later and that this will probably be the only chapter with this many original characters. :3


	3. Discoveries

Another chapter! Woot! I do not own Hetalia, just Daria and Susannah. The story is based on kimchi71399's "100 Day Fanfic Challenge" (days 3-5) and LolliDictator's "Unit Manuals", in addition to my original ideas. A special thanks to **SailorXPrincessXHalloween**, **The Rose Red Alchemist**, **Dragonna** and **NerdfighterNinja** for the faves/reviews/stalks/suggestions! Enjoy my story and please do leave feedback...it means a lot! :3

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><p>Chapter 3: Discoveries<p>

"Francis," I called out, "I have to go run some errands. Is there anything you need? Oh, and are you cool with just chillaxing here while I am gone?"

"Oui, I will be fine here while you go out. Would you mind getting some more eggs?" Francis replied.

After adding Francis' request to my shopping list, I departed.

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><p>Francis lounged on the sofa, staring at the TV without really watching it. Rather, he was deep in thought as he reflected over the things that had happened during the previous week. He had awakened on the floor of his hostess's home after falling out of a crate. Neither he nor she knew where he had come from, although they both assumed that he was French. Though he put up a friendly, flirtatious mask, the fact that he could not remember anything bothered Francis. Things had been a bit better since Saturday, the day the first breakthrough had happened.<p>

When Daria had complained of her headache and yelled at Francis, a memory had been triggered in the Frenchman's mind. _A man a little bit shorter than Francis with a mop of messy blond hair, bushy eyebrows, and piercing green eyes shuddered under a blanket. "Why is it so bloody bright? I swear I will never drink again!" the man in the memory moaned._ On Saturday night, Francis had dreamed of the same blond again, except this time the said individual was clad in a pirate ensemble complete with a feathered black hat and fine red coat, leering down at Francis.

Francis sighed and walked into his bedroom, seeking out the tall bookshelf that stood on one wall. Considering the extensive collection of books that Daria had, Francis hoped that there would be something that could give him some answers. Scanning the shelf, he finally found a French history book, precisely what he needed. Francis sat down at the desk beside the bookshelf and opened the book. As Francis paged through the books, more and more familiar images flooded his mind: _A tall, handsome brunette with random curls in his hair giving him a painting lesson; a smaller version of the green-eyed blond in a green cloak sobbing, snuggling up to him; a young woman burning at the stake with her eyes cast toward the heavens; a small blond boy with purple eyes tripping over his gown as he ran up to greet Francis._

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><p>Arthur swore as he slammed his laptop shut. Nearly a week had passed since Francis had been sent to Texas, yet there was still no contact from him. No phone call, no text, no email message. <em>Leave it to that stupid git Peter to mess everything up! And <em>he _wants to be recognized as a country!_ Sighing, Arthur whirled in his chair to face Alfred, who sat in an armchair across the room. "Let's phone Sealand and Texas. We have to find France."

"Should we call Matthew too?" Alfred inquired.

Arthur scrunched up his face. "Who the bloody hell is _that_?"

"It's only _Canada_! He used to be a colony of yours. Duh!" Alfred crossed his arms.

"Oh," was Arthur's reply. "I guess we can call him. In any case, we need to keep the others from hearing anything of this incident."

Alfred nodded in agreement as he pulled out his cell phone.

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><p>Francis rubbed his eyes in a vain attempt to ward off the sleep that threatened to overtake him. He glanced up and blinked in surprise as he caught sight of the time, 12:30 am. The Frenchman had spent most of the day reading, stopping only to join Daria for dinner. Francis placed a scrap of paper in the book before him to mark his place, then finally retired to bed. He considered the day to be a success, despite the fact that he had not recovered too many memories. Francis had enjoyed reading about his assumed homeland and for some unexplained reason he felt some <em>connection<em> to France.

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><p>"What the hell?" Susannah hollered into the phone. "What were you idiots thinking? No, wait, don't even tell me. I'll just see you when you get here in a few days and I'll look for Francis in the meantime." The Texan slammed her phone shut and threw it across the room. She was infuriated with both Arthur and Alfred for their stupidity in pulling out their so-called prank. Susannah did the only sensible thing she could think of doing when she was this upset, which was firing up the grill and cooking some hamburgers. Food always soothed her temper some.<p>

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><p>Gilbert, Antonio, Lovino, and Ludwig stared at Matthew expectantly. "Uhh, truth I guess," Matthew finally spoke.<p>

"Have you ever liked anyone in this room?" Gilbert asked with a smirk as the rest of the Nations in the room snickered.

Matthew blushed deeply, but before he could answer, his phone rang. "Sorry guys, I have to take this," the Canadian said apologetically. He listened for a few moments, then mumbled a reply. After the other person hung up, Matthew turned back to his friends. "There's been a bit of a, uh, situation, that requires my attention so I have to leave tonight. Thanks for the epic time Spain!" Matthew ran out the door, calling for a cab on his phone.

Antonio frowned. "I wonder what is up with our amigo."

"Must be pretty serious, 'cause the maple bastard called you Spain," Lovino noted grumpily. The other nations nodded in agreement. "Where is the frog bastard at too? He never misses nights like this."

Gilbert looked at Antonio. "Lovino has a good point. It's not like Francis to miss out on our awesomeness."

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><p>Peter Kirkland stared up defiantly at Arthur. "You said to take him to Texas, so I took him to Texas!"<p>

"NO!" Arthur roared, his green eyes glittering dangerously. "We said to take him to Texas the Nation and you took him to a random civilian! Do you realize the trouble you have caused?"

Peter shook his head. "I did my part! You were the one who started this!"

Arthur sputtered, but before he could properly respond Alfred steered him to sit on a nearby crate. As the Englishman still sputtered in the background, Alfred knelt down so that he was at eye level with Peter. "You are right. Arthur and I did start this. We need your help to make things right though. D'you think you can take us to the place where you took Francis?"

"When you put it that way, of course I want to help you!" Peter beamed. _Maybe they will recognize me as a country after _this_!_

Alfred turned to Arthur and gave him a cocky grin. "See, I got him to help us 'cause _I'm the hero_!"

Arthur scowled. "You are a bloody git, that's what you are."

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><p><strong>AN:** What will happen next in the saga of Francis? You just have to wait and see... ;)

I have decided to use human names unless Nations are conducting official business, at which point they will use their country names.

I have tried to do my best with characterizations and formatting, but if there is anything that does not seem right, please let me know so that I can fix it!

If you have any ideas, let me know and I might use them. I think this will be a long story and while I have a rough idea of what my overall plot is, I may run into writer's block at some point. T.T


	4. Amnesia and Hot Tempers

Things are finally moving along in this story! I do not own Hetalia, Facebook, or Dr. Pepper, just Daria and Susannah. The story is based on kimchi71399's "100 Day Fanfic Challenge" and LolliDictator's "Unit Manuals", in addition to my original ideas. A special thanks to everybody who has given me faves/reviews/stalks/suggestions! It really helps me as a writer when you leave comments, so please do leave a review after reading! Enjoy!

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><p>Chapter 4: Amnesia and Hot Tamales<p>

I rubbed my temples in an effort to push away the headache that was blossoming. I had completely forgotten about an article on World War Two that I was supposed to write for a history magazine. Consequently, I had three days to research and write an article that was supposed to be twenty pages long. Groaning, I scrolled through pages of an online search in vain, finding nothing that I could actually use in my article. _I was kidding myself when I thought stuff like this would be a thing of the past after college!_, I thought, exasperated. Somehow, I had made my way through college by cramming for tests and writing papers mere hours before they were due. Against all odds, I had even graduated with honors. "Bloody hell!," I cried.

Across the room, Francis muttered, "Angleterre?" I turned and gave him a funny look. The Frenchman snapped out whatever he was in and gave me a smile that could break a normal girl's heart. "Oh, don't mind me. I was just thinking," he reassured me. I nodded once, unconvinced, before returning to my work.

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><p>Arthur winced as Peter's feet slammed into the back of his seat, right where his tailbone was, for the umpteenth time. At his wit's end, the Brit turned around to face the micronation behind him. "You will cease this immediately!," he fumed. Peter stuck his tongue out at Arthur and kicked the seat again. "You little-!," Arthur snarled.<p>

"Would you guys stop?," Alfred whined, "I've lost the boss level twice because of you two!" He waved his blue handheld game console around to prove his point.

"Well don't blame me," Arthur glared at Peter. "That git has been kicking my seat for two hours now! I won't be able to walk properly for a week now and normally the only person who has the right to inflict such pain on me is-"

"Sirs, is there a problem?," a female with a crisp British accent approached and inquired, cutting Arthur short. Arthur realized what he had almost let slipped and turned a deep shade of crimson. He sank down in his seat.

Alfred glanced up from his game to see several passengers and various flight attendants in the immediate area on the plane casting irate looks at him, Peter, and Arthur. The American pulled out his headphones and flashed his signature grin. "Everything is fine here, miss!," he addressed the attendant standing over Arthur.

She appeared unmoved by Alfred's friendliness. "If our passengers keep complaining about the quality of their flight, the lot of you will be relocated to the coach section. I hope you understand," the flight attendant said sternly. A look of seriousness crossed Alfred's face as he nodded his understanding. The flight attendant walked away to tend to other matters. Alfred stood up, lifted Peter by the shoulders, and sat down in the seat behind Arthur.

"Hey, what was that for?," Peter protested. "_I liked that seat!_. The boy pouted as if to further prove his point.

"Sit down, dude, and hand me my stuff," Alfred gestured at his former seat. "Trust me, you do _not_ want to sit in Coach. There is no room back there at all! So just sit down and chillax! Try watching one of the in-flight movies!," the American asserted.

Peter grumbled something inaudibly and kicked the seat in front of him yet again. Both Peter and Alfred froze at the sound of "kolkolkolkolkolkol" that erupted. This seat's occupant stood up and drew himself to his full height. A slight chill and purple aura appeared around the man. The tall blond fixed Peter in a steely gaze and spoke, "You will be good and listen to your brother, da?" Peter nodded hurriedly. The man smiled and sat down. Alfred sighed in relief as the purple aura disappeared. The remainder of the eleven hour flight from London to Austin passed without incident.

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><p>"Gahh!," I yelled in frustration as I threw a pen across the room. After hours of searching, I had only found a few sources for an article that required many.<p>

Francis glanced up from some tome that he was reading. "Mon belle," he purred in that beautiful language of his, "quel est ta probleme?"

I sighed and turned to him. "The _problem_ is that I have this bloody article due in about two days and I've got nothing."

The Frenchman noted his place in his book, then placed it down and slid behind my chair. "What is ze article about?," he inquired as he began massaging my tense shoulders.

"Mmm," I groaned appreciatively, "it's about World War Two."

"Ah, I see," Francis replied as he continued to massage my shoulders and back. "My, er, grand-pere used to tell me the most incredible stories from when he was a soldier during the war and I remember some of these stories. I could share them, just to spark your imagination, if you would like."

I considered the offer for a moment. While his stories were not exactly what I was considering, I could always use an interview as a source of information for my article. "Okay, that sounds great!," I finally agreed. "Would you mind sharing some now?"

Francis sat down in a chair beside me. "My memories of the stories are still a bit fuzzy, but I will gladly share what I can. I gleefully shut my laptop and shoved it to the side to make room for a notebook. Francis began to share recollections from his grand-pere's stories and my pen moved furiously, as I did not want to miss a single thing.

We talked for several hours, Francis telling about his grand-pere in World War Two and I jotting down notes, asking questions every so often. As he shared more, I sensed that for some reason Francis was not being entirely honest about the origins of his stories. He did not tell the stories as if recalling them from boyhood, but rather as someone who had been present at the events himself. He gave such vivid details of the Nazi occupation of Paris, of the battles fought in the Normandy countryside during the summer of 1944. At times, a pained look would cross his face or he would brush a stray tear away.

At long last, Francis stood up and stretched. "I zenk zat will be enough for tozay," he spoke with an accent that was much heavier than the one he normally had. Stifling a yawn, I glanced down at my watch. It indeed was quite late. I unplugged my laptop, collected my spiral, bade Francis goodnight, and disappeared into my room to attempt to piece together something about World War Two in France based on the things I had found online and what Francis had told me. Before I could get too comfortable, I realized that I needed some strong tea to keep me awake, so I went to the kitchen to make some. I noticed that Francis was still at the table, and he did not move even while I was making my tea.

Francis sensed that Daria, after making her tea and disappearing into her room for a second time, would not be coming out for quite some time. The Frenchman poured himself a glass of some wine that he had picked out special from the store and walked out into Daria's backyard to get some air. Though the yard was small, it was well kept. A small concrete patio with a wicker table set and a hammock atop it protruded from the doorway. On either side of the concrete patio, rose bushes exploded with a shade of orange-pink that sometimes tinged the clouds when the sun was on the large oak trees provided both scenery and some shade on hot summer days. In one corner of the yard, a waterfall poured from landscaped stones into an apparent hot tub. A tall plank fence enclosed the area, ensuring some privacy. The full moon cast a white glow over everything, accented by twinkling stars and a balmy September breeze.

Francis sipped on his wine as he admired the scenery, especially the roses. They were a color that he did not encounter very often. His mind flashed to his own rose gardens at the large, old manor of stone in the countryside that was his home. That ancient structure in the Loire Valley, south of Paris, was one of many things that had returned to his memory over the course of the day. While talking with Daria, it seemed that as he shared more, he remembered more. Though he had mentioned nothing to Daria, him memories now stretched back to what he could only guess was the the days of the Roman Empire.

This fact itself was puzzling. Francis guessed that he could be no older than thirty, so his memories that dated beyond the 1980s made no sense. To top that, the Frenchman could also not shake the sense that he was some how connected to the land and people of France in some deep manner. Overcome by a sudden wave of fatigue, Francis set his glass down on the table and settled into the hammock. The warm breeze enveloped him in the fragrance of roses and he was soon fast asleep. Some questions could wait.

* * *

><p>Susannah slammed her head onto the keyboard before her, causing the older computer to make a funny whining noise. "They want me to do the impossible!," the former country yelled. "In a state of 25 million people, they expect me to find <em>one<em>! And no leads or anything! Just 'oh, yeah, you have a Nation in your state and we haven't heard from him in a week.' When I get my hands on those idiots...," Susannah cracked her knuckles as she thought of what she was going to do to America and England when they finally arrived in Texas. Since they had called her about two days prior, she had been searching for Francis nonstop from her computer. She had hacked into France's Facebook and e-mail accounts, but there was nothing helpful (although there had been lots of good blackmail material). Susannah had even hacked into the surveillance systems of several major cities in hopes of finding a trace of the man. The Texan was at her wit's end after spending the last forty-eight hours exhausting every practical means to find the missing man. Susannah's phone blared the "Star-Spangled Banner", prompting her to whip it out. "Hello?," she growled irately.

"H-Hey there Susie! Just calling to tell you that me, Iggy, and Peter have finally made it to the airport. Do you mind coming and getting us?"

Susannah glared at the wall. "First, _don't call me Susie!_ Next, I will be there within the hour to get y'all, so hang tight. As she spoke, she made her way out to her blue truck and started it.

Alfred concluded his conversation with Susannah and put away his phone. Peter dozed on one of the hard plastic chairs in the terminal and Arthur gazed at him expectantly. "Susie said she would be here in a little while. Arthur dipped his head into a nod that turned into a doze. After what felt like an eternity, Susannah finally strode into the doors of the waiting area. Alfred leapt up and smiled at her, though the smile turned to a frown as he beheld the glare that the the furious young woman held for him.

"What were you idiots _thinking_? We could have a-"

"Ssshhh!," Alfred hissed, clamping a hand over her mouth. "We can talk about it later, but not here. Don't make a scene!" Indeed, security officials were looking nervously in their direction. "Okay?"

Susannah relaxed slightly, prompting Alfred to release his hand. "Fine," she whispered. "But you just wait!" The state forced some cheerfulness into her voice. "Alfred, Arthur, Peter, such a _joy_ to see you all! Why don't we go somewhere where you can actually get some rest?" Susannah nudged Peter, who did not budge. Arthur blinked awake, then stood up and collected his bag. Alfred finally picked up Peter in his arms and looked at Susannah pleadingly. With a sigh, she collected their bags and the party exited into the parking garage together.

Upon seeing Susannah's large truck, Arthur sighed. "You Americans and your need to drive bloody large vehicles."

Both Alfred and Susannah gave him a look. "Well, if you don't like my truck, you are more than welcome to walk to my house," Susannah told him. Arthur refrained from saying anything else and climbed into the vehicle, followed by his other companions.

They drove for a long while, eventually driving into downtown Austin and stopping completely at a large, old, ornate, white home with a porch supported by grand columns two stories high in an affluent part of the city. "Here we are, Susannah declared." She led Alfred, who still carried a sleeping Peter, and Arthur into her home. "Alfred, you can put Peter down in one of the first floor guest rooms. I need to talk to you and Arthur before I show you to your rooms. I know you must be exhausted, but I cannot spare another moment." She smiled icily. "I'll be waiting in the parlor," Susannah gestured to her left.

A few minutes later, the three of them were in the aforementioned parlor, the door shut securely. The Texan finally burst. "WHAT WERE YOU DANG IDIOTS THINKING? ENCHANTING A NATION TO SLEEP, THEN SENDING HIM TO A FOREIGN COUNTRY? WE COULD HAVE AN INTERNATIONAL INCIDENT ON OUR HANDS IF ANYTHING HAPPENS, AND AN INCIDENT WITH ALLIES AT THAT!" Susannah shook with pent up rage.

"Susie, we-," Alfred started.

"DON'T call me that, for the millionth time!," Susannah cut him off.

"Texas, we did not know that things would go wrong the way they did, Arthur said diplomatically, hoping to escape the lecture to get some sleep. I am sorry that you are so upset, but there is not really anything we can do this late. Perhaps we should all go get some rest and start searching more tomorrow. By then Peter can aid us too."

Susannah rolled her eyes. _Of course the darn Brit had to be so practical_. "That is a good idea, I suppose. It is nearly midnight anyways." The furious Texan showed her guests to some lavish bedrooms, then stalked into her den with a Dr. Pepper and settled down to play some video games. She was still too wound up to even consider sleeping. Alfred wandered in sometime later, assumedly suffering from insomnia too. Susannah tossed him a controller and they played together for a while. She gained much satisfaction from beating him multiple times at the games they played, though Alfred claimed some victories too. The two finally passed out, curled into separate corners of the large, deep sofa. The T.V. waited up for them for a long while before finally going into sleep mode as well.

At another end of the house, Arthur tossed and turned for a few hours before finally giving up any attempt to get sleep. "Stupid jet lag," he muttered to himself. He reached into his bag and pulled out a large leather book that smelled of age. The Brit opened his magic book, which coincidentally fell open to the spell that he had used to put Francis into a state of suspended animation. He blanched when his eyes crossed over the list of side effects. _That would explain a lot._

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Not really much to explain here this time...thanks again for reading and please do leave feedback, especially regarding characterizations and translations, or anything that seems important to you! :3

I'll try to be quick with the next update and get it out within the next month...it seems as though it has been about two weeks between updates so far on average, so the next chapter may come out sooner than that!_  
><em>


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